The Distant Affair
The ink did not merely stain the parchment; it ate into it, a hungry, black fungus that spread from the edges of the script toward the center with the slow, deliberate patience of a tide. Eleanor Ashworth watched the letters dissolve, her breath held in a tight, cold knot in her chest. She stood in the center of the Great Hall of King Aldric’s court, a space so vast and high-ceilinged that the...
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